


10) Culture Shock

by Munnin



Series: Hugin Chronicles [10]
Category: Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 02:36:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10912581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Munnin/pseuds/Munnin
Summary: Red Mist meet with the crew of the Argument's End, and see a very different command structure to what they're use to.





	10) Culture Shock

**Author's Note:**

> Red Mist Squad based on characters created by Joe Hogan for the [ The Siren of Dathomir](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C3z0kyf53Ds) and [ Panic Over Muunilinst ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I3-_EnhMEDE). Stolen, run away with, and abused with his permission.
> 
> The Grey Jedi and Odd Squads are original characters based on members of the CSWCC. The original Argument’s End series can be found [here](http://munnin.dreamwidth.org/tag/grey+jedi+verse).

Skate landed them as smooth as a kiss in the hangerbay of the Argument’s End, flicking the switches to open the hatch and start the power-down sequence. He unstrapped and joined the others. After all, from what he understood, they were stopping here for a while. No need to keep the engines hot. But out of habit, he ran the scrambler sequence over the controls so only a member of Red Mist could get her off the ground again. 

Call it professional paranoid but it was his ship.

Jat cocked his bucketed head at the pilot. Skate didn’t need to see his brother’s face to know Jat was rolling eyes at him as they fell in with the others. 

They filed out in parade precision, armour gleaming. They’d been _invited_ to meet with the Grey Jedi regarding Hugin, and Fordo was determined they would make a good impression. 

The party that greeted them wasn’t exactly what any of them expected. Two clones, both out of armour and dressed in almost civilian-like relaxed clothes. The only signs of rank or company was a small shape printed on the shoulder of their shirts.

One was shaved bald with neatly cropped mutton chops, with the almost imperceptibly broader shoulders of an ARC. The other had burn scarring the right side of his face, his hair long and brushed over the unburnt side. His right eye was clouded and grey, apparently blind on that side but something metallic glimmered at the corner of that eye. 

They both looked far too relaxed and at ease.

“Captain Fordo.” The first stepped forward to clasp Fordo’s hand. “Welcome to the Argument’s End. I’m Tem, Captain of the Black Mace Squad. This is Zig, Corvus Squad’s Chief Tactical Officer.” 

Zig seemed to picked up on the little quirk of Fordo’s expression under the helmet. “Our captain’s just finishing up in the gym. She’ll meet you in the conference room.”

The _she_ got an even bigger quirked eyebrow. A Jedi, as squad captain?

“You’ll understand when you met her.” Zig assured. He was about to say something else but someone on the other side of the hanger shouted.

“FIDELIS! COMING IN HOT!”

The two Odds dropped to one knee, a hand braced on the deck and heads low. 

Red Mist followed their lead a moment later as the hanger filled with the sound and fury of a dozen heavily modified Z-95 Starfighter. They roared in, in close formation, the lead pair jostling for position. 

They landed around Red Mist, narrowly missing their ship and leaving barely enough room to walk between them as they set down. 

Skate hissed a curse that made it over the squad’s closed circuit but thankfully was inaudible from the outside. Jat rested a hand on his arm, aware of the pilot’s quivering rage. 

“Keyani?” Zig asked, lifting his head slowly, smoothing his hair back into place. 

“Oh yeah!” Tem laughed. “By… maybe a hand’s breadth. 

A young woman, a padawan by the braid that fell lower than the rest of her short hair as she shook off her helmet. “Tell me someone recorded that! I want incontestable proof!”

“Quit bragging.” Called the Jedi master from the other ship, annoyance showing across her proud Mandalorian features but her eyes laughed. 

Other troopers, all decked in pilot’s armour, disembarked. There seem to have been a pool on the outcome of the landing as credit chips were being given and taken. 

Tem shook his head. “Let’s head upstairs and let Fidelis Squad sort themselves out. You’ll get a chance to meet them later on.” 

They ducked awkwardly under interlocking wings and followed their hosts, Skate still fuming. 

“You can take your buckets off, if you like.” Zig commented as they pressed into the turbo-lift. “We tend to be pretty casual around here when we’re on stand-down. And my understanding is you’ve been assigned to R&R with us for a couple of weeks.”

Fordo removed his helmet, holding it under his arm at parade rest, still formal and stiff. “We were assigned to assist with the retrieval of CT-3050.” His voice was a little cold. 

Tem nodded. “Hugin. Yes, we’ve had an informal briefing. Don’t worry, we all have names here. And we’d rather use them. No two Odds are sequential, none of us were batched or trained together. You don’t end up as an Odd without some history.” 

“Family’s what you make of it.” Zig shrugged. “You’ve got a couple of weeks to get to know us. We’re a dysfunctional mess but we make it work.” As they disembarked, he lifted his head to catch the eye of another trooper, equally dressed down and with the same winged bird mark on the breast of his shirt. “Lark. The boss and Sera?”

Lark waved in answer. “Still in the gym. Sabre practice ran over. Might be best to meet them there. You know that they’re like once they get going.” He scanned the Red Mist squad, reading the individual patterns of their armour. “Fernie, right? I’m Lark, chief medic. Come down the infirmary some time. I’d love a chance to compare notes.” 

“First chance I get.” Fernie nodded, trying to keep a serious and professional expression, but clearly he was very keen on the idea. He’d seen several medical updates and new treatment techniques that had been published from the Argument’s End.

Tem lead them on to the gym. Several troopers in training armour sat or leaned off the sidelines, looked alternately exhausted and amused as two figures in half armour duelled with heavy duty practice sabres. These sabres were tuned just low enough not to cut though flesh but high enough to hurt, judging by the discomforted of a couple of the troopers who were nursing bacta poultices. 

“Tem.” A solidly built clone with the thick neck and muscular shoulders of an artilleryman called out, tossing a deactivated sabre to him. “You want a round.” 

“Stars, no.” Tem tossed the sabre back. “I like my skin.”

The two combatants advanced and retreated, circling each other as they traded furious blows. 

Skate had never taken much interest in sabre combat, beyond how much damage it could do within a ship. But there was something compelling about the way these two fought. Competitive and cooperative at the same time. Like a violent dance. 

With a final passing strike that the shorter of the two conceded, the pair parted; saluting each other as they deactivated their sabres. 

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” D’rue Nor-smen called as he stepped off the mat to greet them. He stood half a head taller than the clones, bald but with a neat goatee. He wore dark grey half armour over less traditional but recognisable Jedi robes. 

“He got carried away.” Grinned the other figure. A warmly Junoesque woman with dark hair, but for a streak of blonde white. “I’m Sera. Thanks for coming to talk with us.” 

Fordo nods curtly, having no idea how best to deal with the informality of this crew. “Captain Stringsinger. Commander Nor-smen.”

D’rue picked up on the formally in Fordo’s voice. “Let’s move this to the conference room, shall we?” He caught a towel as Tem threw it at him. 

The Red Mist squad followed the Jedi commander into a well-appointed meeting room, Tem and Zig joining them. 

D’rue gestured them to sit, seemingly unsurprised when the squad, as one, declined. “Let me make this clear from the outset, you’re not here to be interrogated. What you chose to share with us will be used to find your missing brother, yes. But not to persecute him. Hugin has become the centre-point of a battle of misinformation. We’ve been set the task of finding him, and getting him _out_ of that situation.”

Sera settled into a seat, cracking a bottle of hydro. “The Council may have their orders, but we do things our own way. Our priority is to find him and prove his innocence. And from your reports, you clearly believe him innocent.” It wasn’t quite a question but it is an invitation for input.

“Yes, ma’am.” Fordo looked straight ahead. 

Crispy took their leave to be informal and added, “The only part he took in that riot was to protect two civilians.” 

“The Rus sisters.” Sera nodded. “I’ve been looking into them. The elder, Eva and I move in similar circles. I’ve reached out to some friends in the industry to get me an introduction. I’m hoping to meet with her within the week.” 

“And the younger woman, Rebec?” D’rue looked to Fordo for confirmation. After all, Red Mist did the research to find them. “She’s a skin artist of some renowned, I understand?”

“Sir.” Fordo confirmed crisply. 

Linc gave a small sigh, unsure where their captain’s aloofness was coming from. “From the images we collected from the riot, it appears the skin paint Hugin wears is highly detailed and masterfully done. It seems the younger Ms Rus has made quite a name for herself. Her art has become popular in racing circles. We think it was one of the reasons they were on Malastare.”

Tem tilted his head towards D’rue. “Seems like an in for you there, boss? You’ve been complaining it was time for fresh paint.”

D’rue hummed thoughtfully. 

“General?” Fordo asked, back still ram-rod straight. “May I ask what you intend?”

D’rue lifted an eyebrow at the formality but didn’t comment. “Sera and I are considering approaching the sisters informally. See what we can learn from them before making any official moves.”

Fordo watched Sera study the Red Mist squad’s reaction over the rim of her bottle. Her storm grey eyes seemed to miss very little. “What don’t you tell us what outcome you’d like to see?” She carefully addressed the question to the whole squad but her eyes lingered on Crispy. 

“We want our brother back.” Crispy stated, his voice edgy with barely supressed ardour. 

“And if he doesn’t want to come back?” She asked antagonistically. “If he’s made a life for himself on Silvestri VII and wants nothing more to do with the Republic.”

Fordo stepped in. “The Council-”

D’rue raised his hand to cut the captain off. “The Jedi Council gave us discretion when they gave us the mission. And I have a personal issue with anyone being forced away from a place they consider home. That include clones. The Odds fight because they choose to. If an Odd wanted to leave or retire, they would do so with my blessing.” 

“Has that happened?” Fernie asked curiously, “For reasons other than medical grounds.”

“A few times.” Zig answered without hesitation. “As Tem said, Odds are generally survivors of lost squads. Not everyone recovers from losing their brothers. Those who find they can’t adjust or don’t want to, Sera uses her contacts to set them up with new identities, new lives. The only other survivor from my squad is a farmer now. He and three others run a very successful tallgrain farm on Pakrik Minor. We catch up every time we’re in the system.” 

Sera grinned shamelessly. “Not to mention the very fine liquors they distil from the grain-mash.” 

“Why wouldn’t Hugin want to come back?” Crispy demanded, annoyed by the way the conversation had turned. 

“That’s what we aim to learn.” D’rue pointed out. “And getting better sense of what he’s been through in the year since he was declared MIA will help us make an informed decision.”

He stood, hands resting on the table in a decisive gesture. “Sera and I intend to jump for Silvestri VII late tomorrow. I’d value input from everyone who was on Silvestri VII or has any thoughts on the situation. But I can’t compel anyone to contribute if they don’t wish to but I would appreciate it.”

Red Mist remained silent, waiting for their captain’s lead. Fordo said nothing, looking resolutely ahead.

“Very well,” D’rue nodded. “I’m available when you’re ready. As is Sera. In the meantime, you’ve been assigned here for R&R. Get to know the Odds, make use of the End’s facilities.”

Zig and Tem took that as their cue to rise. Tem nodded for them to follow him, leading them up another floor to a large and well-appointed barracks room. He cues up a map of the ship on a datapad. “The mess is just down the hall. Feel free to explore. We have extensive research libraries, gyms, and workshops. We tend to push the bleeding edge on innovation here but very little of it is classified. If you want to talk to anyone of similar area of specialty, don’t be afraid to ask around. We’re always keen to learn from other peoples’ experiences.” 

The door to the barracks closed, Skate looked around the squad. They all looked as perplexed as he was. “Well, their flyers are insane.” He concluded, sitting down on a bunk to take off his boots. “Insanely good, but insane.”

Crispy looked to Fordo, the captain still leaning against the wall by the door. “Do we trust them, Captain?”

Fordo put his bucket down on the armour stand at the end of his own bunk. “I don’t see we have a choice.”


End file.
